


Welcome to Cornucopia!

by GythaOgg



Series: Cornucopia, SC [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bobby is Alive, But Castiel has met Dean, Canon Era, Canonish but many of your favorite characters have never met Sam & Dean, Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Creature Benny Lafitte, Creature Jessica Moore, Crowley is alive, Dean has never met Castiel, Ellen and Jo are alive, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fireman Benny Lafitte, Fluff and Humor, Friendly Hellhound, Happily ever after for everyone, M/M, Other, Puns & Word Play, Tattoo Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Tattoo Artist Charlie Bradbury, Tattoo Artist Meg Masters, Tattooed Dean Winchester, lots of non-human characters, tatooed castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 07:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18191492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GythaOgg/pseuds/GythaOgg
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are done. Retired. End of the line. About a month ago, they did Billie a huge favor, saving life as we know it in the process (again). In gratitude, Billie has given them the opportunity to live in a mythical town on the coast of South Carolina, where gods, monsters, humans, and supernatural creatures of all descriptions live together in peace. Welcome to Cornucopia, South Carolina.





	1. Retirement

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is set in an alternate universe, but it's canon-adjacent. Most of the major events and milestones in the boys' lives are the same. The only difference is that many of our favorite characters lived somewhat different lives, and never crossed paths with the Winchesters. Some of those characters are VERY different (ex: Jess Moore is a mermaid, and she didn't go to Stanford). Castiel still rescued Dean from Hell, but in this universe, he never introduces himself after he puts Dean back in his body, so as far as Dean is concerned, Cas is a stranger. Also, many of our favorite characters who died in canon, are back! It's a very happy ending AU. Trust me, you'll like it.

                 Sam and Dean Winchester are done. Retired. End of the line.

                 After 15 years of hunting together, saving the world, and dying time after time, the Family Business is officially closed. About a month ago, they did Billie a huge favor, saving life as we know it (again) in the process, and in gratitude, Billie had offered them a retirement plan. They could hand off the Bunker to younger Hunters, and move away. Billie had given them the opportunity to live in this mythical town on the coast of South Carolina, where gods, monsters, supernatural creatures of all descriptions, and humans, live together in peace. Apparently, it’s an epic secret, guarded by some industrial strength magic, and most folks go so far as to fake their own death before moving there. Either that, or they actually die doing something exceedingly selfless or important, and Death (now Billie) offers them the chance to return to Earth as a resident of Cornucopia, SC.

                The boys were skeptical, of course. Decades of The Life, being tricked and manipulated and trapped a thousand times, will do that to you. But Sam never really wanted to spend his life hunting, and Dean never really expected to survive this long, so eventually, they agreed to cut their losses and give the whole retirement thing a try. Once they accepted, Billie revealed that there were familiar faces in Cornucopia: Ellen and Jo were allowed to set up shop there, after dying in that explosion 8 years ago, and Bobby moved there to be with them a few years later, after that whole dying and being a ghost thing. Crowley was rewarded for his sacrifice in the alternate universe a couple of years back, and now he runs the Cornucopia DMV. Billie hinted that they might recognize one or two more residents, but she wouldn’t elaborate, except to reassure the Winchesters that Cornucopia is more or less idyllic, so no one will have any hard feelings towards a couple of retired hunters (even THESE hunters). This is where ‘people’ go to get away from a life of drama and violence, for good, so the whole community works towards peace and harmony, and against grudges and enmity.

                So, eventually, the Winchesters handed over the Bunker keys to Donna, who traded in her Sherriff’s badge to hunt full time. She brought along three 20-something hunters who, like Sam and Dean, would have been Men of Letters legacies. Once the four newbies were settled in, the boys packed up the Impala, and drove to South Carolina.

                When they arrived, the town looked so innocuous that Dean was immediately suspicious. They didn’t have to pass through any security, they didn’t see or feel any magical bubble, or notice any threshold to be crossed. There was just a regular DOT sign, saying “Welcome to Cornucopia [population: 2471]”, with an illustration of a horn of plenty on a shield. Dean was so wary, in fact, that he swung the car around and drove away again, just to make sure he could. (“What are you doing, Dean?” / “Just making sure this isn’t some Twilight Zone, Hotel California crap, where you can’t ever leave again.”) But no, they drove back the way they came for about 3 miles with no issues, before Dean let out the breath he was holding and turned back towards Cornucopia.

                They arrived in town around dinnertime, and drove up and down the main streets, looking for Ellen’s bar. They found “The End of The Roadhouse” about two blocks from the center of downtown, on a big corner lot. This place looked a lot nicer than the original Roadhouse, to be honest: two stories, with a nice brick façade, and a big, wraparound porch, covered in tables. They parked and headed inside, where it looked more or less like a cleaner, better lit, better maintained version of Ellen’s old bar. There were plenty of customers, but no one appeared to be bristling for a fight, or drunk to the point of being rowdy. Hell, there were even a few families sitting at tables, eating their dinner. As Dean and Sam scanned the place, however, those families gave them their first taste of just how different Cornucopia really was.

                At a booth halfway down a row, sat a mom, dad, preteen daughter, and a baby in a highchair. They were just a family enjoying their dinner. A family of Bigfoots, that is. Dean jerked, grabbing Sam’s arm, and reaching into his jacket, reflexively. Sam followed his gaze and his eyes widened, but he pulled himself together pretty quickly, and elbowed Dean in the ribs. “Quit it, asshole. Remember what Ellen said,” Sam hissed at him.

                See, once they knew that Cornucopia existed, and who lived there, Sam had written to Ellen and Bobby, via the local Post Office. Ellen had called him right away, relieved that they could finally ‘let the cat out of the bag’. She’d told them all about the town, and what they could expect when they arrived. What Ellen had said, boiled down to, “They’re all good people here. Not necessarily human people, but good people either way.”

                Dean tried to relax, and continued scanning the place for Ellen, or Jo, or Bobby. In the course of his search, he spotted a goblin, drinking alone at the bar, and a pair of honest-to-god dwarves, eating clam chowder at a small table near the stairs. Everyone else looked human, but Dean knew better than to assume.

                Sam finally saw Ellen walk out of a back room, and the Winchesters headed towards her. Before they got halfway across the restaurant, however, a Hellhound came trotting in the front door, heading straight for the kitchen. Sam and Dean froze, trying to spot who the hound was after, but no one looked panicked. Just as Sam was wondering why they could see the hound with their bare eyes, Ellen looked up from the bottle in her hand, and pointed a finger at the giant, smoking beast. “Bella!” she said loudly, “Oh no you don’t. Out on the porch; you know better!” The beast froze. Ellen’s finger swept towards the front door, and the Hellhound’s ears sagged. ‘Bella’ hesitated, looking about as mopey as a 4’ tall, smoking, red-eyed demon dog can look, long enough for Ellen’s eyebrows to raise, indignantly. “Go on, get!” Ellen repeated, and the hound turned around, shuffling dejectedly back towards the entrance, just as a big, burly man with suspenders opened the door. His eyes darted around the bar before he spotted the hellhound. He gave it an exasperated look, then glanced up at Ellen, throwing his hands up. “I’m sorry, Ellen. She was right next to my chair one minute, and the next . . . poof!” he apologized, in a thick, Cajun drawl. Waving at the hellhound, he continued, “Come on, brat. You know you’re not allowed inside anymore.” Ellen crossed her arms, but the fond smirk on her face said there were no hard feelings.

                As she watched the man and the . . . dog? wander back out to the porch, her eyes lit on the Winchesters, and her smirk blossomed into a full-on smile. “Boys!” she called out. “About damned time. Come here and gimme a hug.” Sam and Dean did as they were told, and soon enough, they were seated at a booth with Ellen and Bobby, eating lasagna and drinking a beer. “So, you weren’t kidding about the population here, huh?” Dean commented, one eyebrow raised. Bobby snorted in response. “Ahh, this ain’t the half of it. You get used to it. Besides, they’re all good eggs, who cares what they look like?” Sam nodded at his plate. “They must be, if you guys aren’t worried about a hellhound wandering into the bar. What’s up with that, anyway?”

                Ellen’s eyes rolled in exasperation. “Ugh. That damn dog – no pun intended. She’s the firehouse mascot, Bella. And she was just fine until last Fall, when Joanna Beth got it into her head to start slippin’ her hamburgers! Next thing you know, Bella’s begging customers at their tables. I had enough when she decided to cut out the middleman, and snuck into the kitchen a couple of months ago! She’s been banished to the porch ever since. Benny usually keep a good eye on her out there, but she sneaks off every now and then.” Bobby huffed a laugh, licking his fork. “Aww, she’s sweet as can be, that dog, but she’s probably go back to Hell for a hamburger. You know hellhounds never give up. She’s gonna get back in that kitchen eventually.” Ellen just grumbled, but Sam was sure he caught the words, “twenty broken dishes” and “new line cook” in there. “Hey, um, why can we see her?” Dean asked. Bobby waved a hand. “Oh, the invisibility thing isn’t their natural state, it’s just some spell demons put on ‘em when they go out to collect on a deal.”

                The four talked about the town, and about what the boys wanted to do here. Dean planned on working for Bobby at the garage, at least for the foreseeable future. Sam wanted to work with animals, to start with. Ellen lit up at that idea. “Oh, that’s perfect! Mike and Kelly are here, having dinner. He works for the Department of Parks & Rec, but he used to work part time at the kennel and groomers, too. He just quit when his youngest was born, a few months ago; he’ll know if they’re still looking for someone. Come on, I’ll introduce you.“ Ellen dragged Sam off, leaving Dean and Bobby to talk about housing. Bobby handed Dean a manila envelope. “That’s a copy of the recommendation letters we wrote for you boys. They’re already on file at the Town Clerk’s office, but just in case, thought you should have a copy.” One of the requirements for establishing residency in Cornucopia, was that someone who already lived there had to vouch for you. Billie’s recommendation could cover that prerequisite in a pinch, but the Town Hall preferred to have at least one letter from a resident on file, whenever possible. Ellen and Bobby had offered to write letters for Sam and Dean.

                “You boys can stay with us tonight, and tomorrow you head over to the Town Hall and talk to Kelly. She’s the Town Clerk; she’ll get you set up in a house – first month’s rent is free.” At Dean’s shocked look, Bobby just smiled. “It’s kind of a town policy for new residents. Anyone with an empty apartment or house, coordinates with the Town Hall, and whenever we get new folks in, Kelly makes sure they have somewhere to live. Everybody tries to take care of each other.”

                A few minutes later, Ellen and Sam returned to the table. “I was just telling Dean that you boys need to go down to Town Hall tomorrow, see about a place to live.” Bobby rumbled. Ellen nudged Sam, “He means Kelly, Mike’s wife. She’s the Town Clerk.” Sam nodded and turned to Dean with a big smile on his face. “Mike and Kelly are the Sasquatch family we passed on the way in here. They have the cutest little baby; he’s so fluffy!” Dean blinked at his brother. “You’re taking all this very well, Sam.” Sam grimaced. “They were really nice people, Dean. I’m not gonna be a dick for no reason.” Dean shook his head, briefly. “No, no you’re right. It’s just . . . gonna take some getting used to, I guess.”

                When Ellen went back behind the bar, Bobby took Dean and Sam back to the house he shared with Ellen and Jo, right across the street. Seeing Jo again was emotional, though Dean tried to hide how choked up he got about it. They sat up until well past midnight, drinking beer and trading stories. By then, the long drive had caught up to the boys, and they crawled into the beds in Ellen’s guest room, both asleep in minutes.  


	2. Red Tape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean become official residents of Cornucopia, and start to settle in.

 

                The next day, Bobby took them down to the garage to show them around, then back to the house for lunch, before the brothers headed over to Town Hall. When they got there, Dean and Sam followed the signs to the Town Clerk’s office. Finding the office empty, they rang the bell on the counter, and waited. After a second or two, a large, hairy Sasquatch woman came out of an adjacent doorway. She was Dean’s height, with silky auburn hair, wearing a knee-length navy blue dress with a beige cardigan on top. She smiled broadly as she approached the counter. “Well hi, Sam! Good to see you again.” she said, her blue eyes twinkling. “Hey Kelly, it’s nice to see you.” Sam replied. “Dean, this is Kelly Boyce. Kelly, this is my brother, Dean.” Dean gave Kelly a charming grin, and reached out to shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Kelly shook his hand and cooed, “Ohhh, ma’am! Aren’t you sweet? Why don’t you two come on back here and have a seat in my office?” She walked back towards the room she’d come from, waving for Sam and Dean to follow.

                As they settled into comfortable chairs around her desk, Kelly began pulling out files and envelopes. Sam noticed several framed photos on her bookshelf, but one drew his attention. Obviously taken on Halloween, the large picture was of Kelly, Mike, and their two kids, with the baby dressed in a tiny suit and tie, and the other three dressed in oversized baby clothes. Mike even had a pacifier in his mouth. Sam coughed to hide his chuckle, and hurriedly turned his attention back to Kelly. “OK, so I have your recommendation letters from Ellen and Bobby, and you’ve already been cleared by Billie, of course. I need you each to fill out these three forms.” Kelly laid three forms and a pamphlet in front of each man, pointing to each form in turn. “This one’s an application for a town ID. This one’s a statement of intent: it just says that you don’t harbor a grudge against anyone in Cornucopia, you understand this is a peaceful place, and you intend to abide by our laws and regulations. Here’s a copy of all those laws and regulations. And this last one is just a non-disclosure agreement, saying you won’t spill the beans about our little retirement community.”

                The boys skimmed through the pamphlet of laws, by-laws, regulations and codes of conduct, then filled out their forms and handed them back to Kelly. “Do you boys have legal ID with your real names on it?” she asked. Both Sam and Dean shook their heads. “That’s OK, we can get you set up with South Carolina driver’s licenses pretty quickly. We all pay our taxes and keep our books straight, down here, and we all look out for each other, when we can.”

                Kelly hands over a sealed, white envelope, with a neat address label, and “Winchesters” scrawled above the label in red ink. Sam opens it up to find a lease agreement and a set of keys. “OK,” Kelly says, folding her furry hands, “these are the keys to your new home . . . it’s on Glenwood Blvd, about halfway between Bobby’s garage and the Zootique ( _that’s the kennel and groomers_ ). It’s a nice little 3 bedroom house, and the first month is free. All you have to do is sign the lease and keep up with the yard work. We don’t have a municipal trash pickup, but you can bring your garbage to the transfer station any day except Friday. The hours and the address are on the list in that envelope. Your electric, water, gas, and internet are already hooked up. Here’s a flyer on the different cable packages, so if you want one of those, just give me a call and I’ll get it set up for ya. Rent’s $700/month, due on the first, starting in November. You can pay it in person here, or mail it in. You make the checks out to “Cornucopia Homes”. She paused, pursing her lips. “Hmmm, did I miss anything? Oh! You’ll need to go upstairs to the DMV and see Crowley. He’ll get you squared away with your licenses, and you’ll need to register your car in the next 60 days.”

                The boys flipped through the sheaf of papers Kelly gave them. It held the lease, a flyer for cable, a sheet with all the account numbers, phone numbers and websites for their utilities, and a photocopied list of all the major businesses in town: restaurants, bars, bakeries, coffee shops, gym, med center, the vet, kennel, salons, tattoo shop, and a brothel. Dean pulled up short at that one. “You have a brothel?!” he gawked. Kelly crossed her legs and gave Dean an unimpressed look. “Cornucopia has quite a diverse population, Dean. Some of our residents are single, and the only member of their species in the area, and we all have needs, after all. The brothel serves a useful purpose.” Dean cleared his throat, while Sam shifted in his chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Uhh, hang on. If some of these folks are the only one of their species, then who are they . . . I mean, umm, who works at the brothel, exactly?” Dean stuttered. “Oh,” Kelly waved a hand dismissively, “an incubus, a succubus, and a shapeshifter. They can be whatever anyone needs, without anyone getting hurt.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up, just as Dean’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “And everything . . . umm, goes . . . OK . . . with that scenario?” Sam asked, without actually meeting Kelly’s eyes. “Oh sure, sure. They’re not out to hurt anyone. Shea and Shemar are retired, like a lot of our residents. Murphy – he’s the shapeshifter – he just really likes roleplaying, so he’s happy as a clam over there.” Kelly assured them, smirking.

                The boys wrapped things up with Kelly pretty quickly after that, and reluctantly headed upstairs to see Crowley. The small DMV office had a very short line, with two people manning the desks. One appeared to be a typical human male, while the other was pretty clearly a female zombie. Dean stepped forward when they reached the front of the queue, and smiled at the man behind the counter. “Hey there. We’re here to see Crowley; is he in?” The guy sighed and headed off to a back room, returning with Crowley a moment later. Oddly, he looked exactly the same as he had when the boys saw him die . . . pressed black suit, slightly receding hairline, purple silk tie. Crowley spread his arms wide when he saw the Winchesters waiting for him. “Moose and Squirrel, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he crowed. “Long time no see, Crowley. How’ve you been?” Sam smiled. “Can’t complain, can’t complain. The DMV in a bucolic Southern town beats eternal damnation any day. Come, come.”

                Crowley led them back to his office and sat down. They declined his offer of “tepid coffee or room temperature water” with a grimace. “What? It’s the DMV, boys. We have standards to uphold.” Dean cleared his throat. “Listen, man. We appreciate what you did to seal Lucifer in the other universe. You really came through for us, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re even. No hard feelings for any of the shit in the past. Water under the bridge. All that.” Crowley looked mildly touched, before snapping back to his typical snarky attitude. “My thoughts exactly, Dean. I’m glad we all made it out alive again. Now, let’s get you two set up with licenses. Oh, and you need to register that relic of a car, right? Good, fine.” He began typing on his keyboard, but looked up after a few moments. “Listen, I know you two are going to think this place is too good to be true. Believe me, no one could be more cynical than I. But I promise you, this town is the genuine article. Bizarre, but legitimate. You’re safe here.”       


	3. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go for pizza, and run into an old acquaintance. A VERY old acquaintance.

                Thirty minutes later, finally done with all their red tape, Cornucopia’s newest residents went to check out their new home. Much as Dean hated to admit it, the house was cute. Corner lot, single story house, 3 bedroom, 1 ½ bath. The rent was cheap, it was clean and well-maintained, and it was walking distance to downtown and to Bobby’s garage. There was a small, fenced in yard out back, and a driveway big enough to fit the Impala and one other mid-size car. “Jesus, Sam. Who’d have thought we’d end up in a place like this? I feel like we should be picking the kids up from school, or baking banana bread, or something.” Dean laughed. Sure enough, a school bus pulled up across the street a minute later, letting 7 or 8 young kids off. Dean hardly even noticed that one of the kids had a beard.

                The boys unloaded what they’d packed into the Impala. It wasn’t much, just a few bags of clothes and linens, some books, a tool box, a chest full of hard-to-find spell components, a stereo, two TVs, and a Playstation. Dean immediately combed through the kitchen cabinets and the hall closets, and was positively thrilled to find that the kitchen already had silverware, cooking utensils, plates, pots, and pans, and the hall closet housed a few perfectly serviceable sheets and towels. Given all the skeevy motels they’d spent their lives in, this house felt like the Ritz Carlton. Still, the fridge and the pantry were empty, so Sam suggested they walk over to Main Street and see what the town had to offer for dinner.

                After a five minute walk, they stumbled across a pizza shop called Death to Anchovies. “Ohhh, this guy is a man after my own heart. I hate anchovies! Can’t eat something with tiny little hairs. Yuck!” Dean cried out, as they walked into the shop. They noticed two tables of kids, all 8 – 15 years old, eating with school books and notebooks spread all over the tables, and Sam nodded his approval. One of the kids was a Sasquatch, one was the dwarf kid Dean saw at the bus stop, and one had pink hair and pointed ears. The brothers very carefully did not stare at the children.

                Sam and Dean headed to the counter, and after they put in their order, noticed the owner wander out towards the dining room. A very familiar owner, in fact. For once, it was Sam who stared, jaw dropping. He grabbed Dean’s shoulders and turned him around to face the dining room, where Death was standing over a table full of kids, filling water glasses and looking over someone’s math homework.

                When he finished with the homework, Death looked up, very calmly, at the Winchester boys. “Hello gentlemen. Good to see you’re both alive and well. Have a seat over there, I’ll be right with you.” Sam and Dean just blinked at one another, then headed numbly towards the booth Death had pointed to, across the room. A minute later, Death returned, with two sodas and a glass of water. He set the water in front of Sam and sat down next to him, facing Dean. He sighed. “I expect you’re a bit surprised to see little old me again, yes?” Dean arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “I mean, I did kill you. Not a deal-breaker by itself, I admit, but with Billie’s big promotion and all . . .“ Death steepled his fingers and took a deep breath. “You see, as a protogenic force of the multiverse, I can’t actually die, per se. But I can turn over my duties, under certain circumstances. So I took the opportunity to retire, at least for a while. And now I’m Joe Black, pizza parlor entrepreneur!”

                At that, Sam turned his whole body in his seat, facing Death. “Joe Black? Really, man?” Death (Joe) just smiled proudly. “Really. I quite like the comparison. And many of us here in Cornucopia have chosen particularly on-the-nose identities, as it so happens. It’s a bit of a tradition. I mean, the banshee’s last name is Harbinger, for goodness sake!” Their pizza and jalapeno poppers arrived at that point, and Joe hummed approvingly.

                After a slice of pizza and one popper, Dean sucked some crumbs off his fingers and looked up at Joe, sheepishly. “Hey, umm, Joe . . . about that last couple of times we met. Especially that last time.” Death put one hand up, forestalling the rest of Dean’s speech. “No need, Dean. There are no hard feelings. If anything, I appreciate the opportunity you provided, even if you didn’t know you were providing it. Nine billion years is a very long time. I was due a vacation.” Sam’s eyes promptly bugged out of his head. “Nine BILLION?!? Are you serious?” he whisper-screamed. “Well,” Joe began, “time is a construct, so I’m estimating. It’s not as if we celebrate birthdays.” Sam continued his impression of a fish out of water, but Joe and Dean ignored him. “OK, well thank you, about the no hard feelings thing. I’m glad you’re getting some down time.” Dean said, as he bit into another slice. “Dis is eely ood pizza!”

                Once Sam got over his apoplectic reaction to Joe’s real age, he asked about the homework tables. Joe explained that several local businesses hosted study groups after school: his pizza parlor, the bowling alley, the bakery, the coffee shop, and the diner. Kids ate for ½ price from 3 – 5pm, and they were encouraged to use the time for homework or studying. It helped to occupy the kids until parents got home from work, and encouraged good study habits. “Education is highly valued here. We have several very old residents . . .  None as old as me, of course, but a few gods, demons, angels, et cetera, as well as a rather brilliant AI who teaches at the high school and at 3C, the local community college. The children here have access to an astonishing amount of information, and Siobhan makes sure they all learn good study habits, along the way.” Sam tilted his head in question. “Siobhan?” Joe hummed, “Yes, she’s the AI.”

                “You mentioned gods, demons, angels, and I’ve seen Sasquatches, dwarves, a zombie, a goblin, and a hellhound, so far. I keep hearing that this place is peaceful, but do all these folks really get along? I mean, demons?” Dean asked, voice low. Death smiled fondly. “They really do, Dean. People ( _and by that I mean everyone, human and otherwise_ ) come to Cornucopia to escape the world. They want to retire, like me, or they’ve had something life-changing happen to them, and they need to be somewhere safe, quiet, calm. Some of them did something heroic, like you boys, or were involved in something quite epic, and their reward was being offered a home here. That’s how Crowley got here. We have elves, vampires, werewolves, werecats, a Martian, a zombie, a centaur, a minotaur, a few elementals, even a raccoon. Everyone is welcome here, providing you already know about the supernatural side of things, and you mean no harm to anyone.”

                By the time Joe finished speaking, Sam was back to his bug-eyed, gasping fish face, and Dean wasn’t far behind. After a moment or two, Sam took a long drink of water, while Joe waited patiently. Finally, Sam asked, “A Martian? And, ummm, a raccoon??” “Ahh, yes,” Joe nodded, “Max - a sentient raccoon. He was part of a mad scientist’s experiment as a baby, the poor lad. Escaped the laboratory and found his way here about 20 years ago, now. And the Martian is a lovely lady named Calliope. You’ll meet her soon enough; she’s always around.”

                They talked for another two hours, with Joe proudly detailing the unusually communal nature of their town. Apparently, several people host community meals every month, and neighbors tend to leave food, clothes, etc. for any residents who find themselves needing help. Death to Anchovies and a few other places in town maintain a ‘pay it forward’ system, where patrons pay for extra pizza, or coffee, or full meals, and if someone comes in who can’t pay, their order is covered by that fund. These “little traditions”, as Joe calls them, have kept anyone from ever really going hungry in Cornucopia. The policy of free first month’s rent helps new residents settle in easily, since many folks who move here have just died, or escaped a harrowing situation, and don’t have access to cash right away. There are scholarships available at the community college for anyone who needs them, thanks to anonymous donors. (“ _Being very, very old often means you have more money than you can possibly use, so several of our residents are quite generous with the community_.” Death pointed out.) Should someone fall on hard times, they will often find their electric bill anonymously paid, or their layaway for Christmas gifts suddenly taken care of. There are no slum lords or corporate real estate moguls here, and lots of small businesses, so it’s relatively easy to find a job that pays your rent. “Most folks here are very grateful for the favors they’ve been granted along the way, so they just help anyone out, whenever they can. ‘Pay it forward’ is a way of life, here.” Joe offered. “Everyone is here because they want to avoid drama and violence and persecution, so no one starts trouble. And if trouble should come looking for us anyway . . . well, we have some very powerful residents living here, should push come to shove.”

                “Does that happen often? Push coming to shove?” Dean asked, eyebrows scrunching together. Joe shakes his head. “Almost never, in fact.” Sam piped in with, “But how do you stay off the radar? I mean, a place like this should be a big, glowing target for assholes, human or otherwise.” Dean nodded his agreement, but Joe just smiled kindly at them. “Magic, boys. Layers of wardings and spells and auras, woven deep into the bedrock of this town. We still get the occasional tourist down from Myrtle Beach, but if you don’t know about the supernatural before you stumbled across Cornucopia, you won’t remember anything unusual when you leave. We’re untraceable, magically speaking, and we’re protected from all kinds of attacks. Think of it as a much older, much larger, more amplified version of your Bunker. You either have to know someone who already lives here, or be sent here by Death himself ( _or herself, these days_ ).”

                With a much clearer picture of where they’ve actually landed, Dean and Sam said goodbye to Joe, and headed back to their little house on Glenwood Blvd. They both slept remarkably well in their new home, considering all the new information swirling through their brains. Sam was willing to roll with it immediately, and in fact, seemed rather enamored of the whole arrangement. Sam, of course, had always been more accepting, and had always wanted the ‘apple pie life’, while Dean was just more cynical and suspicious by nature. It was who he was.

 


	4. The Zootique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean go to the kennel, to see about getting Sam a job. They make a very cute friend. (Do you like adorable animals in human clothes? This chapter is for you.)

                In the morning, they discovered that, while there was no actual food in the house, there WAS coffee, so they made a pot and sat down to discuss what to do with their day. “First things first: food! We need to get some breakfast, and then go grocery shopping.” Dean began. “I think Deat – JOE – said there was a bakery and a coffee shop downtown. Check that list Kelly gave us.” Sam pulled the sheet of paper from the envelope and scanned it quickly. “Good call – there’s also a bagel place a few blocks up. Where do you wanna try first?” They bantered back and forth on the way to the car, debating the merits of bagels vs. pastry. In the end, as usual, Dean fought hard for the possibility of pie, so they headed downtown, parking in the small lot behind the “I Wish For This” bakery.

                It was a good choice. The place was spotless, the food was great . . . and the guy running the bakery was gorgeous. ( _Dean had made a decision when they quit the Life: no more hunting meant no more need to maintain certain ambiguities about his reputation. With no one to hold it over his head, he could leave the closet behind, and flirt with whomever the hell he wanted to. No more code words, no more pretending not to notice hot guys, no more lying about who he spent last night with. Dean liked both women and men, and he finally felt free to do so, out loud and in the open_.) The bakery guy, who happened to be the owner, as it turned out, was named Khalid. Khalid looked like a hipster movie star, with full sleeve tattoos. He had dusky skin and a bold nose, black, wavy hair pulled into a knot, thick-framed glasses, and a baby blue bakery t-shirt with a big dandelion on it. Dean got a slice of peach pie, and on Khalid’s recommendation, Sam got an apple-carrot muffin, which actually had him moaning around the first bite. Dean did some friendly flirting, and Khalid flirted back. To Dean’s surprise, Sam didn’t say one word about it! He gave Dean a proud grin as they got back into the Impala, but didn’t even try to discuss “feelings” or “embracing who you are”, and Dean was pretty damn relieved about that. Of course Sam knew that Dean was bisexual; you couldn’t keep secrets for 30 years, living in each other’s pockets. But they’d never talked about it, and Dean had continued the pretense of being straight all along, even after Sam caught him half-naked with that guy in Santa Fe, and then walked into that ( _M/M/F_ ) threesome in Dallas. Sam never asked, so Dean never told, but Sam wasn’t stupid. And now, Sam was so happy to see Dean being comfortably out, that he wasn’t about to rock the boat by commenting on it. Dean might finally be embracing his sexuality, but he was still Dean, and Sam knew better than to get all tender about this.

                They went grocery shopping next, then to a little home goods shop, to get sheets, towels, and a couple of extra pillows. On the way home, they passed a tattoo shop, and Dean slowed down to get a better look. “You thinking about getting more ink, Dean?” Dean raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Hadn’t really planned for it, but if these guys are any good, yeah I might. Always wanted more than just these four, and that bakery guy’s sleeves kinda got me thinking.”

                Once they got home and put everything away, they threw the new towels in the washer and decided to go check out the kennel. Apparently, the kennel/groomer, the Day Spa, and the gym were all next door to each other, according to the sheet Kelly had given them. The boys headed to “The Zootique”, which turned out to be several connected businesses under one roof: animal shelter, boarding kennel, the Veterinarian’s office, and the groomer’s. The sign at the front door declared that they were all co-owned by veterinarians Dr. Ryan Farnes and Dr. Emaleth James. Inside, there was a big reception counter with three sections, manned by three employees: one for the Vet, one for the groomer, and one for the boarding kennel (“ _Zootique B &B_”).

                Sam and Dean stepped up to the middle spot, where a raccoon was typing away at the computer. A raccoon in little cargo pants, a pale green button down, and a tiny blue & green tie, with a nametag declaring him “Max”. Before either of the Winchesters could think of something to say, Max finished typing, looked up at them with a wide, toothy grin, and said, “Hi there, welcome to the Zootique. What can I do for you?”

                “Uhh, I’m Sam Winchester, I just moved here. Mike Boyce said you guys might be hiring?” Max’s furry little eyebrows shot up, and his smile grew. “Oh great! Welcome to Cornucopia! I’m Max. We could definitely use somebody over at the kennel. Come on, I’ll give you the tour and you can get a feel for the place.” He pushed himself back from the desk with his bare feet, and leaned towards the woman at the next station: a white lady in her 50s, with straw-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. “Go ahead Max, I’ll cover your desk if anyone calls or comes in,” she offered. “Thanks Cal,” Max called out, as he clambered down from his chair. He grabbed a security badge from his desk, and kind of waddled down the hallway on the left. Dean choked on a giggle, causing Sam to smack him in the arm, as they followed Max to a door at the end of the hall, marked “Boarding & Shelter”. He reached up to wave his security badge at the door lock, glancing over his shoulder at the Winchesters. “So, the boarding kennel and the shelter are the same facility. The left side is folks who don’t have homes yet, and the right side is paying customers, just visiting while their people are away. Some of them are Day Care clients, and they go home at 5:30. The others are overnighters, and they can be here for days or weeks. Either way, everybody gets the same accommodations: nice, clean kennel, warm bed with blankies, good food, access to the outdoor runs 24/7, plus they get playtime and W-A-L-K-S, two or three times a day, depending on the weather. There’s a playroom inside; you’ll see that in a minute.”

                The Winchesters followed Max down the long line of kennels cubicles, stopping to say hello to several excited dogs. Max climbed into a couple of the kennels, wrestling and cuddling the dogs inside. Though there was plenty of excited barking when they walked in, Sam was surprised not to hear any whining, howling, or obsessive, scared yipping that he’d experienced in other kennels and shelters. Also, the place was extremely clean, but didn’t stink of disinfectant. “How do you keep it so clean, with all these dogs?” he asked Max. “Oh, we clean constantly, with organic products, so it doesn’t leave that awful antiseptic smell. Someone does a walkthrough every two hours, and mops up, grabs laundry, sweeps up fur. Then we do a deep clean of the cubes whenever folks are out at playtime or the other thing, so it never gets bad.” Max reached into a kennel to wipe eye boogers off a Lasso Apso, and then led Sam and Dean to the door at the end of the kennel room, reaching for the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, before grabbing the door handle.

                They walked through a vestibule and into a big, colorful, indoor playground. There was a smooth concrete floor, plastic bridges, steps, and slides, a sort of squat, treehouse-style fort, two couches, and a wheeled office chair. One corner housed a ball pit, with big plastic balls, as well as a fabric tunnel tube. There were bins hung up on one wall, filled with tennis balls, Kong toys, rope pulls, and crinkly, flat “stuffed” animals. In the opposite corner, was a smaller, fenced in area, with a sign reading “Small Fry Lounge”. Inside was a teenage girl with Asian features, a long braid, and freckles, who was wiping down toys and sweeping out the enclosure. She looked up, waving, as the trio walked through the room. “Hey Max!” Max scampered over to the enclosure and climbed up the fence, high-fiving the girl. “Hey Sara! This is Sam and Dean Winchester. They just moved to town; Sam might be coming to work here. Sam, Dean, this is Sara Volantes.” Sara looked shyly up at the Winchesters, but she smiled and waved. “Hi, welcome to Cornucopia!”

                Hopping down from the enclosure fence, Max grabbed two fingers of Sam’s hand and led him towards the back door, going through another vestibule, before a second door opened to the outside. This had more of a typical dog-parky vibe to it, with more plastic playground equipment, but also lots of Astroturf, and two small, in-ground pools. There were water stations and doggy bag dispensers set into the wall, and once again, the place was sparkling clean. Dean whistled long and low. “Damn. This place is nicer than everywhere I’ve ever lived!” Max grinned up at him, proudly. “OK, on to the kitty cats!” Max announced, slapping his little paws together. “Ohhh, whoa!” said Dean, stopping in his tracks. “I’m gonna have to skip that part of the tour, Max. Allergic!” Max just shrugged. “No problem! Hang out here, and we’ll be back in a few minutes.” He took a couple of steps towards the door, but turned back to Dean again. “Incidentally, though . . . you should talk to somebody about that – Castiel Walker or Mark Johnson, probably. From what I hear, allergies are just a minor glitch in your system, and they’re super easy to heal. If Sam’s working here, you’re probably gonna have cat dander floating around your house sooner or later. Just a thought!”

                They left Dean behind and headed through another set of doors, into a smaller indoor area. This one was half carpet and half polished concrete floors, with one whole wall of cat trees looking out onto the dog park and walking trails. There were six or seven cats there, lounging by the window, or playing on the obstacle course, which was set up in the center of the room. There were several cardboard boxes lying on the carpet; one of them occupied by what looked like a small, fluffy leopard. “Hey Devon, how’s it goin’, man?” Max says, leaning over to scratch the cat’s forehead. ‘Devon’ leaned into Max’s touch, purring very loudly. Max stood up and gestured towards Sam. “This is Sam Winchester, he just moved here. Might be our next employee. Sam, this is Devon Garcia. He owns the Bagelry, over on Broadway, but they close at 2pm, so sometimes he comes by the cat room after, to hang out and socialize a little.”

                Sam . . . didn’t know how to react to that. “Umm . . . sorry, a leopard owns the bagel shop? I feel like I’m missing something here.” Max stared at him like he’s stupid for a moment, then got an “Ohhh!” expression on his face, and smacked himself in the forehead. “Crap! Sorry Sam. I keep forgetting how new you are. Devon’s a Managua ( _a werecat_ ). Were-margay, specifically.” He turned back to Devon. “Dev, can you . . . ?” The cat meowed loudly and stepped out of his box, stretching, and he just kind of kept stretching, extending out further and further. A few seconds later, Sam was staring at a naked, 35 year old Mexican man, who grabbed a nearby fleece blanket to wrap around his waist. “Hi Sam, nice to meet you.” He said, extending a hand for Sam to shake, which he did, after a second or two of stunned silence. “Oh, that makes much more sense! Sorry Devon, no offense meant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sam stammers. “None taken. Lots of people here aren’t human. You’ll get used to it.”

                They took their leave of Devon, and headed into the adjoining kennel room, which was set up much like the dog kennels. The cats all seemed to love Max, and it took them a few minutes to make the rounds, scratching heads and chins as they went. By the time they returned to the cat playroom, Devon was back in his box, napping.

                Max and Sam returned to the yard to pick up Dean, who was now playing with a chocolate lab. Once Dean tore himself away from his new friend, the three headed back up the hall towards the front desk, where Max finally asked Sam what he thought of the place. Sam was wearing a grin big enough to split his face by then, and didn’t hesitate. “This place is great, Max. I’ve never seen such a clean kennel, and you treat everyone so well. They all seem super happy and healthy. I’m impressed.” Max beamed a bit at that, clearly proud of the place. He told Sam what hours they’d be looking for, the salary, and a quick rundown of PTO and benefits. “If you’re interested, give me your number, and I’ll text you as soon as Ryan or Emma give me the green light. As far as I’m concerned, you’re hired.” Sam agreed, everyone shook hands, and the boys headed out the door.


	5. Casanova Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean check out the gym, and they both make fools of themselves. Sam is adorable. Jess is charmed.

                On the way out, Sam drifted to the left. “Hey, do you mind if we stop in and check out the gym?” he said, puppy dogs eyes in effect. Dean gave him an obligatory eye roll, but followed his brother down the block to Bygones Fitness. “Well”, he huffed, “now that we’re done with hunting, I suppose I’ll have to find another way to stay in shape. Might as well see what this ‘gym’ nonsense is all about.”

                Bygones was . . . well, it was a pretty typical gym, actually. Front desk, bored teenage girl staffing the desk, lots of mirrors, a couple of racks of free weights, and a bunch of exercise machines. Except that two of the treadmills were hugely oversized, and there were some very heavy weights on the bottom of those dumbbell racks. To the left was a room for classes, with a yoga class currently in session. Dean caught Sam staring into the yoga room, and smacked him upside the head. Sam yelped in outrage, but blushed and immediately turned away to approach the front desk.

                Sam asked the teenager at the desk about a membership, and she told him one of the trainers could give him the rundown and show him around. She leaned back until she could see through a half-open door marked “Staff Only”, and called out “Cole! Customer!” A moment later, they heard, “Really, Chloe? That’s so professional. Use the intercom, or get off your butt and come get me,” followed by footsteps, and the trainer (Cole?) emerged from the staff office. He was certainly fit enough to be a trainer. Big arms, sculpted pecs, and abs so defined that they were actually visible through his tank top. His thighs were huge, and Dean was so distracted by them, that it took a second for the guy’s face to register. His bull face. Apparently, Cole was a minotaur. But oddly, he was a pretty hot minotaur! He looked human-ish, but with a bull’s snout, soft, floppy ears, curved horns, and big brown eyes, complete with long eyelashes. Frankly, Dean’s brain wasn’t sure what to do with this information, so he just stood there, staring, until Sam kicked him in the calf.  

                Fortunately, Sam always seems to adapt to this kind of thing faster than Dean, so he only hesitated for a second before reaching out to shake Cole’s hand. “Hey, I’m Sam. Just moved here, and wanted to see about maybe joining a gym.” Cole looked Sam up and down, and said, “Well, you look like you’re in pretty good shape, so I’m guessing you know the basics. Ever belonged to a gym before?” Sam shook his head. “OK, so never had a session with a trainer, I assume?” Sam shook again. “No problem. I’ll show you around the gym and explain what we have to offer, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?” At Sam’s nod, he turned to Dean, who was still rather blatantly checking Cole out. “And what about you, pretty boy?”

                Dean blinked, startled, and eventually spit out, “Uhhh, I’m . . . uhhh. Yeah, I’m just tagging along with my brother.” Cole gave Dean a slow once-over, then deadpanned, “You can come, too” and winked at him. Dean blushed and cleared his throat, but followed along when Cole and Sam started walking across the gym. He stayed a foot or so behind then, mostly out of disinterest in the tour ( _definitely not so he could stare at Cole’s ass_).

                Cole showed them the locker room ( _where Dean did not picture Cole showering_ ), and the sauna ( _where Dean did not picture Cole in a towel_ ), then out to the crossfit studio, then across the main gym, where Cole explained all the equipment. As they headed back to the front desk, Cole gestured towards the yoga room, the people inside it now rolling up mats and swigging from water bottles. “That’s our classroom. Usually yoga or aerobic dance, but Emir teaches a body combat class every other Sunday. That’s Jess, in the gray and blue top. She teaches all the yoga and aerobic dance classes.” Sam was staring again, but tore his eyes away, at Dean’s nudge. Cole went over the parameters of the membership plans, and gave Sam a brochure with his business card attached. As he walked away, Sam’s head was already turning back towards the yoga room.

                The yoga teacher walked by and stopped, looking the two men over. She faced Dean, jerking her head towards Sam. “He always stare like that?” Dean snorted. “Nah. I think he might be blacking out. You awake over there, Sammy?” he replied, snapping his fingers in front of Sam’s face. Sam jerked back, slapping at Dean’s hand, but at least he finally got his face under control. The yoga lady laughed, turning to face Sam. “Seriously, you OK? You’re looking at me like I have a tail.” There was a snort from the teenager at the front desk, who was obviously eavesdropping. Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but yoga chick interrupted him. “I’m just kidding, I do have a tail.” Sam’s brows scrunched together and his eyes dropped down to her ass before he caught himself, snapping his attention back to her face. “Well, not at the moment!” she laughed.

                Finally, taking pity on his tongue-tied sibling, Dean asked, “Are you a ummm . . . Were? Is that OK to ask?” The woman smiled indulgently at Dean. “It’s a little rude to just blurt out, but I did bring it up, so you’re fine. I’m a mermaid. Legs on land, tail in water, blah, blah, blah. Jessandriel, but everyone calls me Jess,” she explained, extending her hand. Dean shook it. “Nice to meet you, Jess. I’m Dean Winchester. This is my little brother Sam,” he offered, nodding at Sam. “He’s usually not this weird, I promise. Dude, get it together!” Sam, by now a vibrant shade of pink, cleared his throat and glared at Dean. “Umm, hi Jess. Nice to meet you. I’m Sam.” Jess looked like she wanted to pat Sam on the head for his efforts. “Well, I have to gear up for the next class. See you around, boys!” She waved goodbye and headed off towards the office, while Sam stared after her, looking dazed. Finally abandoning all hope of Sam moving under his own volition, Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and dragged him out the door, where he proceeded to make fun of him all the way home. Sam mostly just pouted, occasionally throwing out variations on “Dude, did you see her?” and “Shut up, Jerk”.            

                When they got home, Dean made their first dinner in the new kitchen. They compromised on spaghetti w/zucchini and onions and homemade sauce, so Sam could have veggies, but Dean wouldn’t have to disgrace his table with a salad. “So, you seem to be getting used to the whole non-human thing pretty quickly. Well, I mean, your skill with mermaids could use some work, but otherwise . . . “ Dean offered, winking at his brother, and then stuffed far too much pasta in his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes for the hundredth time, but pointed out that, if they’d already met six non-humans in their first two days here, then it was probably going to be a frequent thing, and they might as well adjust now. Dean quirked his eyebrow and nodded; he knew Sam was right. And so far, everyone had been great. The town, the community, the people . . . everything seemed legitimately good. Ideal, even. In a moment of rare introspection, Dean wondered if he was having a hard time embracing that, simply because it was so unlike anything he’d ever had before. Well, Dean reasoned, as he did the dishes, he said he was going to use this as a fresh start, and dammit, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

                The next morning, Sam got up early to go for a run. When he got back, Dean was already up and showered, making breakfast. Sam was beaming when he walked in to the kitchen. “OK, I know running is supposed to give you some big endorphin boost or something, but you look like you’re about to burst into song, dude.” Sam grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, guzzling half of it before taking a breath and explaining. “I saw Jess! She was jogging on the beach and she remembered me.” Dean blinked at Sam, looking entirely unimpressed. “Of course she remembered you, doofus, she just met you 18 hours ago. And you made quite an impression.” Sam grimaced. “Shut up, jerk. We ran together for a couple of miles and then we just sat and talked for a while. She’s amazing, Dean.” Sam smiled wistfully, and headed off towards the bathroom. It was sweet, really, and Dean was happy for his baby brother. Sam had never really had much luck with women. Never had time for girls in college, and over the years of hunting, he’d rarely even hooked up ( _except for that year when he didn’t have a soul_ ). His only actual relationships had been with Amelia, and that weird, brief marriage to Becky. Other than that, most of the women Sam had really connected with had ended up dead, and for a long time, Sam just quit trying. He ignored the waitresses and the girls in bars who tried to flirt with him, pretended not to notice when witnesses fawned over him during cases, and never made a move on anyone. But when they decided to quit the Life, it was like a switch was flipped, and a light came back on behind Sam’s eyes. Dean was relieved as hell to see it, honestly, and he hoped that this Jess girl turned out to be something good for his brother.

                Dean started working at Bobby’s garage – Second Chance Automotive – that day, and that evening, Sam got a call from the Zootique, officially offering him a job. They got a routine going soon enough, where Dean would drop Sam off in the morning, on his way to the garage, then pick him up after their shifts ended. Sam loved his new job, said it was revitalizing, after all their years of constantly fighting and killing and travelling. And Dean had to agree, really. It was nice to just work on cars all day, go home to a real house, and interact with his neighbors, without having to remember a cover story, or watch his back all the time. He still looked over his shoulder now and then, of course, and he was still a little bit paranoid. But the longer nothing happened, the more comfortable Dean became.

               


End file.
